


Missing Scene: Playthings

by Secret_Wendigo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Drunk Blow Jobs, Episode: s02e11 Playthings, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Season/Series 02, Sibling Incest, Slash, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Wendigo/pseuds/Secret_Wendigo
Summary: What happens between the time Sam falls into bed drunk and when Dean gets to the bar in Playthings.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in season 2, during episode 11, Playthings. Dean and Sam are staying at the hotel to investigate the string of strange deaths taking place. Sam has a cast on his hand.

Sometimes the temptation of Sam was hard to resist. They lived in isolation from the rest of the world, always in the same room together day in and day out, and with very few places to hide their secrets. And now Sammy was lying in front of him, face down and about to pass out drunk in bed. Dean had secrets...and fantasies...and they were getting harder to hide.

Dean sat on his bed, took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was wrong to stare at him lying there. His drunk brother had begged him to watch out for him, to kill him if he turned into something that he’s not, because Dad said he knew what was going to happen. Because Dad made him promise. Sam had grabbed his face and pulled him close to say thank you before Dean pushed him away. If Dean had a few drinks in him, it might not have been so easy to push him away and if Dad knew what Dean was turning into, the thoughts he sometimes had about his little Sammy, he might not have trusted him to watch over his brother.

Sam's breathing became slow and even and his movement stilled. Dean reached over to the tanned patch of skin that peeked out from under Sam’s white t-shirt, just above the waist of his jeans. He lightly ran two fingers down Sam’s exposed back, then along the top edge his boxers and imagined how it would feel to press his palm flat onto his brother's back and run it over the curve of his hips.

Sam stirred and Dean’s breath hitched in his chest. He snatched his hand back like Sam’s skin had turned to fire. What the fuck was he doing?

Dean stood and walked to the dresser where the whiskey bottle that Sam had so generously helped himself to earlier sat. He poured some into the crystal tumbler his brother had used and pulled a chair to the edge of Sam's bed. He sat and sipped on the glass while he watched Sam sleep. He could never kill his brother.

By the time the sun set, the whiskey bottle was almost empty and Dean's mind was full of Sam. His pupils dilated as his internal thoughts went from things he couldn't do to his brother to things he shouldn’t do to his brother. He watched Sam's chest rise and fall, then let his eyes wander down Sam's body to where the top of his hip bone peeked out.

Dean stood to shrug his jacket off and threw it onto the empty bed behind him, keeping his eyes fastened to the exposed skin at Sam's waist. Dean grabbed the crystal tumbler off the bedside table and lowered himself back onto the chair. He leaned back and let the whiskey slip down his throat. Dean ran his free hand over the crotch of his jeans. He was hard and and the pressure felt good. The alcohol had numbed his fingertips and his guilt. He used the one hand to unbutton his jeans, then slipped his hand down under the fabric to massage himself. He sipped the whiskey and thought about the things he could do with his brother; to his brother. It was sickfuckedupwrong, but he sought to comfort himself with the one man he knew he loved more than anything in the world. He certainly couldn’t kill him, not even if Sammy was on his knees in front of him begging for it.

Dean wondered what it would be like to kiss another man. To hold a man, his brother, like he’s held countless women; putty in his hands. He began to stroke himself loosely while he imagined Sam’s lips on him. Would Sam be eager to please him? Would he look up at Dean while he sucked him off? 

Dean took his hand from his pants and placed the empty glass on the table. He stood and moved the chair, then sat at Sam's side. Dean leaned over his sleeping brother, whiskey heavy on his breath, until he could feel Sam's breath when he exhaled and braced himself with a hand at Sam's side. This was how close his brother had come to him earlier. Dean dipped down until his bottom lip brushed against Sam's lips. Sam’s eyes fluttered open, then darted back and forth across Dean's face, but Dean only retreated a few inches. Sam's expression was sad and serious and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip, then bit down where Dean had just touched him. He took a breath to speak and, just as it seemed he would start with the “you have to kill me” bullshit again, he raised his hand to the back of Dean's neck, and pulled him down into a kiss.

Dean was careful in how he responded; gauging the kiss for what it was. But when Sam opened his mouth and let his tongue part Dean’s lips, it was clear to him. Dean welcomed it and opened his mouth in return. He felt the day’s stubble as he licked and sucked on his brother’s lips. It wasn’t like kissing a woman…it was different, harder, more urgent.

Sam broke the kiss and breathlessly looked him in the eye. "Please, don’t leave me. Save me….” and Dean covered Sam’s mouth with his to stop him from asking him to do what he knew he'd never do. 

Even with the whiskey clouding his judgment, Dean knew this was wrong. It was wrong, but his brother was urging him on, pulling him close and asking him to save him and he didn't want to think about that. 

Dean gripped Sam's exposed hip and let his palm press into the curve, then move down to the bulge at the front of his jeans. Dean felt a tug of excitement in his belly and Sam pulled Dean into a deeper kiss. He hurriedly unbuckled Sam’s belt and unfastened his jeans, and when he reached inside to feel his brother's tight, smooth skin, he exhaled deeply into Sam's mouth. Dean pushed down and wrapped his fingers around his cock, appreciating the thickness, and Sam sucked in air and pulled back to look into Dean's face.

He'd gone too far.

"Fuck." Dean pulled his hand back and stood up from the bed, turning and buttoning his jeans while simultaneously kicking himself mentally for molesting his drunk, emotionally vulnerable brother. Why did he think he could get away with that? Dean grabbed his jacket and began to turn towards the door.

“Dean, wait.” Sam sat up in the bed, his jeans still open, then drunkenly fell to his knees at his brother’s feet. “Don’t go.”

Dean turned and looked down at his brother, angry that he had let himself act on his fantasies.

“What Sam? What the fuck are we doing here?”

Sam reached out, pulled Dean a step closer and worked to unfasten his jeans. He pulled the front of Dean's jeans and boxers down until his erection was free, then looked up and whispered, "You’re saving me.” Without looking away, Sam leaned forward, grabbed the base of Dean’s cock with his left hand and guided it into his mouth. 

Dean dropped his coat and pulled in a deep breath. “Shit, Sam.”

Sam used his casted hand to pull Dean’s hips forward, to suck as much as he could; in and out.

It felt soft and warm, like a woman’s mouth and Dean ran Sam’s hair through his fingertips and felt the silkiness of it. He closed his eyes for a moment and tilted his head back, and could feel the tips of Sam's long hair touching his exposed skin. Sam was sucking him so hard, he won't be able to hold on much longer. Dean looked down and grabbed the sides of Sam’s head to set a pace. Sam never looked away and Dean was mesmerized watching his dick slide in and out of his brother's soft, slick mouth.

“...I’m going to come in your mouth….” It was Dean’s demand and Sam made no move to try to evade it, he let Dean fuck his mouth and dropped his hands to his sides. 

Dean came so hard, his vision went black for a moment. Sam gagged a little, but swallowed and wiped his mouth. He stood slowly and pulled Dean’s jeans up, struggling with the button because of his cast. Dean finished the job for him and they stood facing each other. Sam's lips were puffy and his cheeks were wet.

Sam stepped forward and grabbed the back of Dean's head and pulled him up into a long, deep kiss. Sam was tall. Dean tasted a tang on his tongue and he was reminded that his tall brother was just on his knees sucking his dick like a fucking pro. Sam's jeans had inched down and his hard cock pressed into Dean's leg. Dean pulled down the front of Sam's boxers, stepped to the side and he began to jerk his brother off. He never broke their kiss and held Sam tightly to the front of his body. Dean moved his hand with experience, the same way he would get off at night thinking about Sam sleeping in the next bed; thinking about Sam’s hand on his cock instead of his own.

Sam came with a jolt, saying Dean’s name into his mouth. Dean sat him down on the bed and his eyes looked tired. The sex and the emotion, coupled with the alcohol had taken its toll on him. Dean wiped his hand, helped Sam lay back, and he fell asleep immediately. 

With a woman, he might have lay down next to her and fallen asleep in the aftermath of sex, but somehow that seemed too intimate, like something lovers would do, but they weren’t lovers, they were brothers…and it was confusing. Dean covered Sam with a blanket, picked up his jacket, and headed out of the room.

As he descended the stairs of the hotel, he mulled thoughts of the case with thoughts of his brother’s eyes looking up at him, needy for protection from himself. Dean headed to the bar, hoping a few more drinks would numb his urge to wake his brother again; to try and fulfill the other fantasies he’s had.

And when he sipped his drink, and the bartender pondered what people would think if they knew what went on in some of those hotel rooms, he had to chuckle….and get his mind back on the case.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my very first fanfic ever and was originally written in 2007 right after Playthings first aired, but it's been significantly updated today, ten years later!! 
> 
> (And God do I still love these characters although my ship has changed!)
> 
> Feedback and corrections welcome.


End file.
